I found this ironic because my protagonist, while also happening to be an arrogant asshole, is decidedly different in his approach. He does not rape women, and when he violates women in the despicable ways that arrogant rich assholes defile anyone with whom they come into contact, he actually feels, get this, remorse. Yes, he recognizes the self-destructive attitude that develops in his mind as he continues to defile others. His objectification is merely a projection of his own self-objectification.
I found it quite ironic that I had settled upon Seattle to tell a vastly different tale of the same kind of depravity.
So, to be quite honest, I have not read through any of the three Fifty Shades books in their entirety. Oh, I have tried reading some passages, but it is mind-numbingly awful, to put it kindly, from a writing perspective.
Hey, the author has sold 100 million copies, so who am I to argue with her right? Wrong. The truth is, every once in a while something comes along and becomes a sensation for no apparent reason. Pet rock anyone? Pop rocks? I mean, let's be honest here, this series tapped into some bored housewives that wished their lives had a bit more excitement. It's like Twilight for adults.
There are two things that can make a book great:
1) Great prose. A meaningful adaptation of the English (or other) language that creates a better mind simply by its existence and flow.
2) A compelling, well-told story.
This book has neither. As an example of the simply horrific writing, at one point she describes The Heathman Hotel right here in good ol' Portland, Oregon.
Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s.
Um, does she even know what edifice means? Sure, it is quasi explanatory, if by explanatory you mean to say that the "impressive brown stone 'large and imposing building'" is in any way more explanatory. ti's like she picked up a thesaurus and threw an adjective in there just because she wanted a word better than "building" in the description. And, by the way, if you are going to attempt to describe a place you have never been, it might be a good idea to avoid using Yelp reviews for your descriptions.
There is this little thing called the internet, it has pictures. When I did research for my first book, I looked at pictures, I looked at maps and counted the numbers of restaurants in a particular area; I looked at freaking restaurant menus so i could better define the fictional places my character visited. Hell, I looked up restaurants in Seattle, Boise, Payette Lake, London and Greece. I researched Holy Land Tours because my character went on one of those tours.
When I wanted my character to have a long layover in London (for plot reasons), I looked at round trip flights from Seattle to London to check out the plausibility of those long layovers.
But, he, I guess that's why I am not trying to sell a freaking pet rock to someone as great literature.
Some years ago, J.K Rowling made a name for herself selling a fabulous fantasy tale to children. It was not Nobel Prize or even Pulitzer prize worthy from a writing perspective. But that was okay, it was targeted to kids and written at their level. Unfortunately, Fifty Shades is targeted at adults, but written like it is from the mind of a child.
Yes, I am a pretentious ass. That's okay. I think we need to be pretentious if we want to preserve the art that is writing. There is little value in a story that is poorly told and has little relative truth. Having known people involved in the lifestyle the author is attempting to describe I can tell you that it is unequivocally, a bad interpretation of the life. Imagine if someone who had never even talked to a Christian attempted to describe the religion in a fantasy tale and all they had ever done was read "Left Behind."
Well, guess that about sums up my thoughts. I still find it somewhat amusing that my tale of a man struggling to be a better person happens in the same town as Christian Grey. Imagine that.
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